User blog:Laria Wavedeep/The Son Of A Warrior
Note: Please do NOT read this until you have read Redwall's Taggerung, because this is a sequel. If you want to be updated, tell me so I can add you to my update list. Feel free to comment! Thanks and happy reading!--Laria Wavedeep Beware of my sling and I! *This story takes place twelve seasons after Moonwind is born. He is now twelve seasons old. Now on with the story... Prologue The night was dark and moonless. The leaves rustled in the breeze. The air was filled with an uneasy feeling. The bankvole scurried along, paws padding softly on the loam as his hooded figure weaved in and out of the trees. A breeze came, making the trees look as if they were dancing. The bankvole lifted his head and stiffened. Something was not right. He sniffed the air and stayed still for a couple of minutes. A wave of cautiousness fell over him as he crept forward towards his home. When the presence of evil had lifted, he walked quickly and silently, reaching his home, a tree with which the entrance was covered with bushes. He walked down the tunnel which went downwards, the fur on his neck rising. He quickly hurried until he reached a door. Opening it, he went inside and took off his coat, shuddering. He warmed his paws by the fire and tried to stop his shaking paws. He felt as if he had been followed. He curled up and fell asleep. Outside, the wind had stopped. A pair of glowing eyes watched the hidden entrance to the bankvole's home. The creature got up from hiding behind a bush and turned, walking back the way the bankvole had come. It veered off and disappeared into the blackness of the night. Chapter One Thunk! The dagger thudded into the tree's trunk, pinning the leaf, quivering. The onlookers applauded loudly as Moonwind tugged his dagger from the tree, smiling modestly. He went over and sat down next to two otters and a ferret. "How did I do Dad?" He asked. Dayl smiled. "I think you're just as good as me, son. Let's have a competition, eh?" The female otter chided him. "Oh Dayl, that's not fair. You always beat him. You've had more experience than him, you were a Taggerung!" Moonwind passed his father one of his matching daggers which had belonged to Dayl. "You go first Dad. See if ye can hit the leaf." Dayl started twirling the dagger, getting faster and faster as Moonwind watched him admiringly. Suddenly the dagger whipped off into the air, covering the distance faster than greased lightning. Dayl walked over and pulled it the blade out of the tree, smiling at his son's admiration. He nudged the young otter. "Yore turn now." Moonwind threw the dagger and it hit the leaf to the side. Moonwind retrieved his dagger. Juvern nodded. "Yore getting better Moonwind. In a few seasons time I think you'll just be as good as yore dad." Dayl had taught Moonwind everything about weapons and how to use them since he was walking. Moonwind had grown up around swords and weapons. Felia and Melba came over, a plate of scones in their paws. Felia was starting to bend with age. They sat down. Melba offered the plate. "Friar Nirpol wants you to try his hazelnut scones. They're nice with meadowcream and plum preserve, washed down with good dandelion and burdock cordial." They all sampled a bit and immediately voted it delicious. They walked over to the pond, where the Dibbuns were splashing about, supervised by Abbess Rosie and Skipper Romarc. Abbess Rosie pulled a face as they sat down next to the pair. "Whew, those Dibbuns are more trouble than a hundred toads." Skipper nodded, wet from rescuing a squirrelbabe. "Aye mate. They certainly are lively today. Ahoy, Moonwind, laddie buck, did ye beat yer dad at a throwing competition?" Moonwind shook his head ruefully. "Nope. I'll never be able to beat him!" "Of course you'll beat me one day. When I'm old and grey that is." Dayl dodged Brendila's rudder as she playfully swiped at him. North of Redwall Abbey evil was in the air. Varlidass Bloodheart had come! The tall sinewy weasel had an army of backstabbers, murderers and deadly killers at his command, tenscore in all. It was not a full army, but each fighter was worth two. There were some that were not up to his standard, so he killed them. He would take on any kind of vermin gang and add them to his horde, test them and see if they were good enough. The lucky ones who got through would later watch in horror as their new leader would torture their former comrades, by skinning and burning them alive. Some others would be drowned, suffocated or whipped, then sluiced in salt water, repeated until the screaming soldiers were dead. The whole army were scared of their leader, and his moods could be unpredictable. His name was feared throughout the Northlands. He was a dark brown colour, with green eyes. He wore a tunic most of the time, and a black cloak with a shining silver clasp. His weapon was a sabre, with an emerald set in the hilt. He was deadly with it and it was always by his side, lest there were any problems within his horde. Not that were many. He had decided to try his luck down south, where food was plentiful and where there were places to conquer. Like Salamandastron and Redwall Abbey. He decided Redwall Abbey, knowing that there were no woodlanders who would stand in his way. Even if they were foolish enough to try, his horde would kill them. Right now they camped by a pike infested stream, which they had no knowledge of. Some tried putting together lines and dangled them into the water, hoping to catch a meal. Varlidass sat in his tent, waiting for his tracker, a stoat called Crooktail to report to him. Unlike other warlords, Varlidass had no Seer. He had no wish for one, deciding that he didn't need to know his fate. One of his warriors had brought down a fine plump woodpidgeon, which was stuck on a spit, roasting over a fire. It was brought to him, slightly charred, served with a beaker of elderberry wine. He ate it, tearing at it with his teeth and claws. Before he had finished, his stoat tracker, Crooktail, came into the camp. He was let into the tent and was starting to shake, knowing that he could be dead if his news wasn't good. He gulped nervously as Varlidass picked at his teeth with a dagger. The stoat waited until the weasel had finished. Varlidass asked, "Well? Are ye going to report to me or just stand there lookin' dumb?" The stoat took a deep breath. "I followed the bankvole all the way to his home. It's a big oak with a hidden entrance at the base of it. It's half a day's march southwest." Varlidass's sabre neatly clipped a whisker off Crooktail. He lightly tickled the stoat's neck. "Good work, Crooktail. Will you lead me and the horde to it?" Crooktail nodded vigorously. Varlidass sheathed his sabre. "Dismissed, tracker." The stoat left the tent in a hurry, not wanting to see if Varlidass required anything else from him. Outside, a thin rat was suddenly pulled into the stream. He was one who had wanted to fish, greedily looking into the water to see if any fish might bite his hook. A small pike had pulled the unsuspecting rat into the stream, and now he was splashing about, wailing as the pike closed in on him. "Help!" He screeched. "Pull me out before they eat me!" Some of his comrades were laughing and pointing at the fish. Others tried to help the rat. Varlidass was out of his tent in a flash. In one swift movement he hauled the screeching rat out. At the same moment a pike leaped out of the water and tried to catch the rat's long tail. Varlidass's sabre was suddenly in his paw and he sliced the pike in half before it splashed back into the water. Its blood slowly swirled in the water as the other pike tried to tear at it, biting each other in the process. Before long, the water was red with pikes blood. Varlidass sheathed his sabre. "If any of ye are foolish enough to try an' fish again..." He held up the terrified rat and held him above the water. "I'll feed ye to the pike. They ain't fussy on wot they eat. Got that into yore thick 'eads?" Everybeast nodded, trying to stop their shaking paws. Varlidass wasn't called Bloodheart for nothing! Chapter Two Moonwind's best friends, a squirrelmaid called Ferna and another young otter, Naldin, were helping in the kitchens, having found an interest in cooking. Friar Nirpol was delighted to have such keen learners. He had showed them how to make a damson pudding, and they had helped him finish it. The three friends now headed towards the pond. Hunto was there, singing, comically pulling faces and flopping his ears up and down to go with the actions while skimming stones. They stifled their laughter as they neared. :"Scoff, oh beautiful scoff, :The wonders that it can do, :This chap is hungry and he wants :A measly crumb or two. :Oooh, what I wouldn't give :Fer a slice of apple pie, :Or maybe a nibble instead of a fiddle :Of some scones I'd like to try! :That blackberry tart looks delightful, :You had better save some for me, :Or the fruit salad with the honey on top; :I pray you weren't stung by a bee! :I hope you liked my ballad, :About me, poor and starvin', :Let me die and bury me quick, :Afore somebeast eats the pudden!" Hunto turned around. "Oh hello. Do you know when tea will be, wot?" Moonwind shook his head. "Soon, I hope, before you die of hunger!" They fell about laughing as Hunto stomped off. He muttered to himself, "Some chaps don't know how jolly important it is to eat! I'm bloomin' famished!" He walked towards the kitchens, the smell of a huge carrot, mushroom and leek pastie reaching his nose. He sniffed. He crept quietly towards the entrance. The aroma of hot foods tore at him, urging him to go in. He was about to go in when Skipper Romarc walked up. Sensing the hare was about to steal, he asked sternly, "Hunto, wot are ye doin' near the kitchens, eh? Plannin' on how to steal a couple o' scones, I'll wager!" Hunto stared at the floor, scuffing at it with his footpaw. "Er, no, of course not, uh, Skip, I was just walking by, wot! How dare you accuse me of such a crime, sah! I would never, never steal from a kitchen!" Skipper patted Hunto's back, his strong paw making Hunto stumble and gasp as the air was knock from his lungs. "Good work Hunto. Tea will be in a few minutes, I think." Skipper started to lead the reluctant hare away. Hunto was hanging back, the aroma of the pastie still in his nose. "I say, Skip ol' lad, where are we going?" "Just to the orchard matey, where tea will be held." Hunto wriggled his ears in delight. There was a buffet set up on the lawn, and most of the Abbeybeasts were already there, taking their tea and sitting down in the shade of the fruit trees. Varlidass and his horde were marching, lead by Crooktail. The stoat was by his leader's side, scared that the deadly sabre would be at his throat at any moment. It was near evening when they reached the bankvole's home. Varlidass made the camp ten minutes away. Taking five of the soldiers with him, they hid behind bushes. They didn't have to wait long. The bankvole came from the opposite direction of the vermin camp. Unaware that five creatures were watching him, he pushed aside the shrub which covered the entrance, revealing the tunnel. Carefully covering the hole, the bankvole disappeared. Varlidass took note of the shrub which covered the entrance. They waited for a few minutes before venturing out. Varlidass led the group, shoving the shrub aside. He crept down the tunnel, candles lighting it up. They came to the door. It was slightly ajar. Varlidass pushed it a fraction. It did not creak or squeak. The weasek peaked through the gap. The bankvole was sitting in a a wooden chair, close to a fire. His back was facing the door. Varlidass inched the door open slowly until it was big enough for everybeast to get through. Varlidass crept up to the chair and drew his sabre out, slowly and silently. The bankvole felt the fur on his neck rise again. He was about to turn when suddenly Varlidass's paw gripped his shoulder, digging his claws in. Holding the sabre to the frightened bankvole's neck, the weasel whispered dangerously. "Don't move, or yore dead meat, bankvole. Wot is yore name, woodlander?" The bankvole replied in a shaky voice, "Hyton, sir." Varlidass pushed his sabre more, causing his victim's neck to start bleeding a little. The bankvole whimpered, "Please don't kill me. I haven't harmed anybeast, I swear!" To his surprise the sabre was sheathed back in its scabbard. Varlidass stood in front of Hyton, smiling evilly. "I won't kill you. Yet. I've got plans for you. Tell me, are you hungry or thirsty? I'll bring you back to my camp. You can have anything you want, if you answer the questions I have in store for you. But if you don't, or don't know the answers..." He took out his sabre and toyed with it, suddenly clipping off a whisker off Hyton. Hyton was shaking with fear. "I'll answer everything! Anything you ask me!" He cried out. Varlidass sheathed the blade and nodded to the five. They swiftly binded the bankvole with rope, gagging him. Once that was done, they marched out, covering the entrance. Two walked behind, clearing up the traces and pawprints of vermin. Once it was finished, the place looked like Varlidass had never entered the tree. They had been and gone. Chapter Three They arrived back, pushing and prodding Hyton with spears and swords. Two rats tied Hyton to a tree near Varlidass's tent. Varlidass started questioning the bankvole. "Answer truthfully, you'll live. If I find out yore lying..." He brought out the sabre and started sharpening it on a rock. He looked up and smiled evilly. "Now for some questions. Do you know the building called Redwall Abbey?" Hyton nodded vigorously, too scared to speak. "Good, good. Have you ever been there? Answer me!" Hyton replied shakily, "Uh, n-n-no s-sir, never!" Varlidass lazily flicked up the sword point, the end piercing Hyton's throat. He tickled the bankvole's throat. He enjoyed his captive's fear for him. "Are ye sure? You don't seem very sure. Speak the truth. Have you ever been there?" "No sir." Hyton forced his tongue to speak, his voice was barely audible. Varlidass held his patience. "Do you know how many are allies and friends of Redwall?" Hyton hesitated, but then saw the blade in the weasel's paw. "Well, there's the shrews, Guosim, there are other shrews too, the Guosssom, then there's tribes of otters, lots of them, there is a squirrel colony more to the south and... I think thats it. There are always other woodlanders too, like maybe hedgehog, mice and mole colonies." He fell silent. Varlidass pressed the bankvole. "Do you know how many are in the Abbey?" Hyton shook his head. Suddenly a wave of anger come over him, and he said aggressively, "I will never tell you how many, how little or how good the warriors at Redwall are, you vermin. They have always been kind to me and-" The realization of what he had just said made the bankvole's blood turn cold and he started shaking, not daring to look into the eyes of his tormentor, knowing that he didn't have many more moons to live. Varlidass pointed at Hyton, saying with a snarl, "I knew you were lying to me. I think you have just signed yore death sentence. But I won't kill you now. Not yet, but soon, slow and painful, I'll make you scream and curse the day you were born." He nodded to a ferret and fox. "Mudclaw, Barbtail, hang our prisoner up and give him some water and some edible roots. Then give 'im twenty strokes o' the whip, for lying to me. We'll see if he can last on a feast of that!" The horrified bankvole was dragged to his spot and tightly bound. At the end of the ordeal Hyton was cut on his arms, legs, chest and face, blood oozing out of the wounds that the whip had made. The Redwallers sat on the lawn, tea having finished. Naldin, Moonwind and Ferna were sporting around, laughing as they chased each other around. Moonwind was never caught; he was slower than his father, but still faster then everyone else. They collapsed by the pond, panting heavily. Then Naldin started splashing Ferna, and Ferna splashed Naldin back, spraying droplets of water on to Moonwind. Moonwind thumped his rudder down hard on the water, splashing everybeast nearby. It started a huge water fight. The Dibbuns, who were being bathed, had escaped from the tubs of water, sponges with soap suds and their mothers, who started chasing them. They ran towards the pond, leaping in and jumping up and down. Dayl, Skipper Romarc and some of his ottercrew bounded in, making sure the babes were safe and didn't go into deep water. Juvern, Brendila and Abbess Rosie laughed as the otters attempted to herd the Dibbuns back to the building, but they kept evading their grasp. When all the splashing had stopped, Naldin, Moonwind, Ferna and the Dibbuns were dripping wet, giggling. Brendila wagged her paw at the babes. "Who started this water fight?" Everyone pointed at Naldin, who was grinning. A smile spread over Brendila's features. She shook her head and said, "Go have a bath, all of ye, afore ye catch a cold." A wail of dismay came from the Dibbuns. One molebabe piped up, "But us'ns have already got h'a barth, boi bathing in 'ee pond! Oi bain't havin' h'another wash, you'm bee gurt naurty beasties if'n you make us have h'another one!" To emphasize the statement he shook a stick at them. Skipper winked at the ottercrew and Dayl. He said, "I heard Friar Nirpol was makin' a nice plum and raspberry pudden, with lots o' candied chestnuts too. 'E said that if you babes don't have a bath, he won't give any to ye!" Then, winking and whispering to them like it was secret, "I also heard that there's some strawberry cordial." The Dibbuns started rushing to the Abbey, squeaking. "I'm gonna have a bath first, then I be the first to git some pudden!" "No you bain't, Oi'll be gettin' 'ee pudden first, you'm gurt naurty squiggle!" "Haha, you others are so slow! I'm gonna be there way before you!" They disappeared into the Abbey. Juvern nodded at the three young friends. "You'd better dry down. Yore all drippin' wet!" Moonwind said, "C'mon mates, let's go." The trio plodded towards the Abbey. Pirrel the Cellarhog, who had watched the whole thing, came up to them. He said, "Those three are fine young creatures. They won't go wrong in life!" Chapter Four Varlidass sat in his tent, thinking. The weasel would probably need more fighters if he was to conquer the Abbey. Even if one soldier was worth two, the Redwallers had lots of allies around Mossflower. He also wanted a way to parley with them, but without seeing the horde. He did not want them to know how many were in it. He decided he would have to get a party searching for recruits. He got up and left his tent, his cloak waving in the breeze. Over near a campfire a dispute seemed to be going on. A stoat and a rat were fighting over something. Varlidass quietly sneaked up and watched the argument. A crowd had gathered to watch it as well, and Varlidass blended in well. A bird on a spit was roasting over the fire. The stoat, Gridder, said angrily, "I caught the bird, not yew, thief! Go git yer own vittles!" The rat, Ludbail, spat and said, "I'm no thief, yew rotten liar! Yew haven't got any proof dat yer caught the bird! This bird is mine, I killed it wid me sling!" He punched Gridder's nose. The stoat stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose. He snarled, "I'll git yer fer dat!" Wham! Gridder did a terrific uppercut to the rat's jaw. It started into a fight. The watchers yelled out shouts of encouragements. The pair threw themselves at each other, trying to reach their swords as they punched and bit at each other. Ludbail snorted, "Hah, yew ain't much of a puncher, big fat picklenosed snubears!" Gridder grinded his teeth in rage and sprang at Ludbail, claws outstretched. "Ho, it's insults now, eh? Well, come 'ere gobbysnouted bottlebrained lardbarrel!" Ludbail screeched in pain as Gridder drove his claws into his chest. He retaliated by punching Gridder in the eye. They continued to fight, oblivious to the advice given to them by their comrades. Varlidass shouted, "Ye both are the worst fighters I've ever seen!" That stopped the fight. Varlidass didn't mean that they were bad fighters. Both were one up to Varlidass's standards. They glared furiously at the crowd, ignoring their wounds, scratches and bruises. They yelled out, "Who said that?" Varlidass stepped out, and at once the camp was silent and still. He said calmly, "I will not have fights in my army. If I find any more fights around... I'll carve the arguers into shapes. Got that? A third time an argument, fight, or dispute happens, I will personally deal with them. You have my oath on that. I let you off on the fishing, and this will be the last time. I'm giving you chances to get that into yore brains. Mutineers will have a worse fate. Many of you have seen how I deal with mutineers and warriors not up to my standard. You will only do what I ask you to do. If I say sleep, then sleep. March, then march. Fight, then fight. Eat, then eat. If you want to do something, then ask me. But do not think that I am stupid. If you ask to go gather herbs or get food, I will send a spy to make sure you do not run off." He turned to the trembling Gridder and Ludbail. "Yore lucky I left you off this time. Next time it happens, I will slit yore throats..." He took the bird of the spit and threw it away. He swept off, cloak swirling behind him, paw on sabre. Gridder and Ludbail mournfully stared at each other. "Huh, we could've just shared the bird between us instead of Lord Varlidass throwing it away. Ooh, I'm starvin'!" Ludbail said. Gridder searched for some herbs for his wounds and said, "Oh well, can't eat it now. Lucky ants!" Moonwind, Naldin and Ferna sat under a damson tree. Moonwind toyed with his daggers; they were extremely bored and didn't know what to do. Naldin took out his sling and fondled it. His parents had died in a vermin raid, and he had been picked up and brought to Redwall. He had been only one season old, but he remembered everything. Memories clouded his eyes, and he thought about who had been the leader of the vermin. A fox called Drintag Bladestone. Naldin closed his eyes and lay back, immersed in his own thoughts. He started to doze. A female otter carried a sling over her back, an otterbabe in it. A big, strong male otter ran up, concern in his eyes. He unwounded a sling and loaded a stone in it. "Teran, what's going on?" The female otter asked. Teran shook his head, ushering her along. "Quickly Derla, there's not much time. That fox and his vermin scum are coming. We need to get away and hide." Derla looked about wildly. "But where?" Wild laughter and the pounding of footpaws came closer to the couple. Teran gritted his teeth. "Anywhere, before they get to us!" Suddenly a fox carrying a shining sword, followed by fifty warriors appeared. The fox shouted, "There are the two riverdogs! Get 'em, my warriors!" Warcries filled the air as they charged to the two otters. "Bladestone! Bladestone! Drintag Bladestoooonnneee!" Teran swung his sling and let fly, the stone striking a rat on the footpaw. He fell, and the others who had been behind him tumbled over. Derla put aside the otterbabe and got out a sling. The pair loaded and slung stones until the vermin were almost upon them. Loading a final stone into their slings, they hurled themselves into the enemy, outnumbering 25 to 1. They stood back to back, fighting desperately. The babe watched as the vermin parted and made way for the fox, who bounded in. Swinging his blade, the otterbabe watched as he confronted the two exhausted otters. He said, "Give up riverdogs?" Teran groaned in pain, eyes filled with hatred. He shouted, "Never! We will fight to the last!" Drintag Bladestone shrugged and turned around. Suddenly spinning around, he ran Teran through. Derla screamed and got up, teeth bared. "Die fox! You killed Teran, now I will kill you!" She jumped at Drintag. The orange fox side stepped and watched Derla fall to the ground. Before she could get up, he stabbed her in the back, twice. Derla went limp and lay still. The babe started wailing, and Drintag pointed to the bundle. "Knock that babe out before it gives me a headache." A stoat walked over and crouched down. The babe stared at him with tear stained eyes. The stoat poked the babe's cheek and said, "Huh, yore lucky Drintag ain't killin' ye. Very lucky indeed!" The babe growled and bit the stoat's paw. Hard. The stoat screeched in pain. "Youch! Owwowow!" "Ouch! Get Naldin off me afore he bites me flippin' paw off!" Naldin woke up to find himself biting Hunto's paw, and he released immediately. Hunto massaged his injured limb. "You must've had a bloomin' horrible dream, biting me like that, wot!" Naldin apologised, "Sorry Hunto, it was a bad dream." Pain filled his eyes. Skipper and Dayl hovered around. "Are ye alright matey?" Skipper Romarc asked. Naldin nodded. "I'm fine thanks." Hunto, Skipper and Dayl left, walking back to Great Hall. Moonwind looked at Naldin. "What was that about, mate?" Naldin shook his head, his eyes returning back to the deep brown colour. "Oh nothing mate. Just a bad dream." Chapter Five Varlidass prowled around the camp, making sure that all was well. His horde did not dare to look him in the eye; they were too fearful about what would happened, and knew his moods. Varlidass strolled to where Hyton was strung up by his paws, on the thick limb of a beech. The bankvole was unconscious and was covered everywhere in cuts and wounds. His eyes were crusted with dry blood from a head wound. Varlidass beckoned to a fox who had been guarding him. "Sharg, get a bowl of cold water and bring it to me." Sharg soon came back with the water. Varlidass signalled to him to throw the water over the bankvole. Whoosh! Hyton came to, coughing and spluttering. Varlidass asked, "I'll wager you still aren't going to tell me how many Redwallers there are. Am I right?" Hyton glared at Varlidass with hot fevered eyes but kept silent. Varlidass continued. "I knew it. Well, I have a way to let them know I am here. A plan that includes you." Hyton stared at him through half closed eyes. "Oh yes. In the end, all of your friends in the Abbey will be dead. Slain, and I'll be the new ruler of all Mossflower. Aye, and those still left alive, will be my slaves, licking the dust of the floor and polishing my guards weapons. I can see that you are staring at me, hatred and pain in yore eyes. Yore hatred will not go away, but yore pain will. Soon, after I am done with you. Every creature dwelling here in these parts, will fear me and know my name. Varlidass Bloodheart! After I have conquered this Abbey, I will capture the woodlanders who are still here and they will be added to my slaves. They will know my strength and serve me." He turned to Sharg. "Give the bankvole another ten strokes. The sight of him hurts my eyes." He walked back to his tent, laying out his plans. He called his second in command, a black ferret called Zandor. Zandor wad deadly with a mace and chain. He padded into the tent and saluted. "Ye wanted to see me, Lord?" Varlidass nodded and sat. "Yes. I want you to organise a score of our warriors, and scout out Mossflower. Gather as many recruits as you can. Bring them back here. I will not test them, because I need as many as I can get. Tell them that you serve the mighty Varlidass Bloodheart, that if they serve me they will get great rewards, and if they do not want to be part of my horde, kill them. If they have families, all the better. Threaten that you will kill their wives and children, the youngest first. Keep killing them until they serve me. I trust you, Zandor." Zandor bowed and said, "I only live to serve you, Lord. I will not fail you." "Good. You may go now." The black ferret left. Naldin kept repeating the name over and over again in his head. Drintag Bladestone, Drintag Bladestone. He picked at his food. Moonwind noticed this. "Naldin, what's wrong?" Naldin forced himself to take a bite out of a pastie. "Nothin' mate. I think I'll go to bed early. I'm tired." He got up. "Alright matey. We'll see ye in the mornin' then." Naldin nodded and faked a yawn. Moonwind turned to Ferna, whispering. "I don't like this, somethin' is bothering Naldin." The squirrelmaid nodded. "I know, but it might be private Moonwind. Leave him be." "Alright, but I can't help noticing his mood. I hope he's better in the morning." Dayl and Juvern were trying their best to keep control of their mirth as they watched a squirrelbabe and a molebabe putting a full ladle of hotroot into Skipper's already spicy shrimp and hotroot soup when he was talking to Pirrel. They giggled a bit and poked Skipper until he turned around. "What, ho, its Trenn the squirrelbabe and Mogger the molebabe. Yes, liddle mateys?" Trenn giggled and pointed to the soup. Mogger said, "Burr, your zoop be's a-growin' cold jus' sittin' there, zurr. You'm had better eat et h'all oop!" Skipper grabbed a spoon and started eating it. He slowed down. "Did somebeast put more hotroot in my soup?" He scowled at the babes. They put on an innocent face. Trenn said, "We didn't Skippa, honest!" "Yurr, we wudd have told 'ee if'n we did, zurr. Us'ns never lie!" Skipper drank a tankard of October Ale in one gulp. "Whew, its spicy! Pour me more of that October Ale, will ye Pirrel." The hedgehog obliged just as Grentail and Trumlin struck up a song about the soup, and soon everybeast was joining in by clapping their paws. :"Hotroot, hotroot, hotroot soup, :It'll make yore rudder curl in a loop, :It's got flavour and it's got spice, :We eat it once then we eat it twice! :Me grandma and grandpa were very old, :They had thick blankets but still got cold, :Then one day me cousin came and said, :They shouldn't be lyin' so long in bed! :He made a great big pot of boilin' soup, :This one had lots of spicy hotroot, :With shrimp and radish, wild ransom too, :They ate it and jumped out with a shout and a boo, :And now, since then to this very day, :They are very wise and they just say, :"Eat hotroot soup and grow big'n'strong, :You'll live for a few more seasons long, :On just good ole hotroot soup!" There was applause by the Redwallers as they finished their meal. But soon, the peace would be shattered and made into war. Chapter Six Varlidass was still awake at midnight. He decided he would put his plan into action. Drawing his sabre, he walked outside to where Hyton was tied. The bankvole was once again unconscious, licking his dry lips in his nightmares. Varlidass grabbed a whip from one of the guards and woke the bankvole with a few whacks. Hyton lifted his head and said hoarsely, "Water... must..have..water." Varlidass chuckled wickedly. Hyton sensed something bad was about to happen. Varlidass whispered in his ear, "Oh, don't worry about that, friend. After this, you won't be needing water any more, for the rest of yore short life..." The weasel quickly gagged Hyton with a piece of cloth and raised the whip, striking the bankvole. Naldin woke before dawn; he changed into his habit and slipped on his sandals. He crept around, seeing if anybeast was awake. He walked down to Martin's tapestry. He stared at the warrior mouse, wanting to be like him. Strong, firm, but yet kindly. He spoke, "Oh Martin, I wish I was like you, strong and brave. I know I never will be, but who knows? Drintag Bladestone is still out there, killing many others. Among them were my parents, my family. I only remember having an older brother, who was killed before my eyes, like my parents. I want to avenge their deaths, but I'm no warrior. Even if I was, where would Drintag be? He could be anywhere." Naldin stood and admired the sword. A figure appeared before him, one he recognised as Martin the Warrior. Naldin turned to face him. Martin said, "Don't fight for revenge, fight for justice Naldin. Inside you, you are a true warrior, but you just haven't proved it to yourself. Your father was a champion slinger, just like you are now. Come with me, Naldin." Naldin followed Martin in a trance; across the lawn and orchard, up to the west battlements. Martin pointed with his sword down on to the path. "Look there, Naldin, and get the others. Remember, I will always be by your side. Now go, tell them." He disappeared and Naldin snapped his eyes open. He looked to where Martin pointed; and gasped. A bundle lay on the path, hooded and covered with a cloak. Naldin raced down the steps and didn't stop running until he burst into Skipper's room. Speaking breathlessly, he said, "Skip, there's a bundle on the path outside the main gate!" Skipper got out and carried his javelin. He said, "Get Dayl, Juvern, Abbess Rosie and Brother Sholler. It might be an injured beast. Bring them to the main gate. Go!" Naldin raced off to do his errand. Skipper ran and unbarred the main gate. On seeing the bundle, he ran to it and knelt down. Slowly, he uncovered the cloak and gasped in shock. He sat there, trembling slightly, staring at the gruesome body of Hyton. The bankvole had been flogged many times, and blood was all over the cloak. It was also wet, from the water that had been thrown over Hyton. There were huge wounds on mainly his chest, one of his eyes gouged out, teeth missing and fur ripped out. On his back were sword wounds, deep cuts from the sabre. Some of his hide had been torn off, some on his face, on his arms, back and neck. Some bones were sticking out from his right arm, from being twisted and broken by Varlidass. A huge wound, running down from the top of his leg to the bottom of his knee had been nearly split open. There was a cut from his left ear to his jaw. The rest arrived and stopped, staring at the scene before them. Dayl quickly turned Naldin away, lest he saw the mangled remains. Hyton was barely identifiable as a bankvole. Abbess Rosie gasped, "Who would do such a thing?" Skipper looked up, a tear running down his cheek. He whispered, "Remember Grollen's cousin, Hyton? This is him. Always such a nice bankvole, he didn't have to go this way. Grollen will be heartbroken. Who will tell him the news?" Dayl said, "I will Skip." He shook his head sadly. "Cover him and bring him inside. We don't want anybeast to catch us out here." They walked slowly, carrying the bundle. It was past dawn now, and most of the elders were awake. They rushed towards the group and tried to catch a glimpse of the covered bundle they were carrying. "Wots in there, matey?" Pirrel asked Skipper. Skipper answered, "You'll see soon enough mate. 'Tis gruesome. I have a feeling in my rudder that evil will soon approach Redwall". They carried Hyton into the gatehouse, away from curious eyes. Grollen was in there, tidying up the shelves and table. "Oh hello. What's that you're carrying? Why the mournful faces?" At a nod from Skipper, Dayl took a deep breath. "Okay Grollen. I need to talk to you outside. Just you an' me." Grollen looked puzzled but followed the otter. Skipper shut the door and uncovered the body. They all flinched when they saw Hyton again. Pirrel at once recognised the dead bankvole. He broke down sobbing, "No, no, no, its not true, Hyton, please don't be dead! My poor friend!" The big hedgehog shook with grief and sorrow. Skipper suddenly spotted a pit of parchment which had rolled out from his sleeve. Skipper picked it up and scanned the message. Juvern said, "What's that you got, mate?" Skipper growled, " A letter from a vermin." He read it aloud. To the Redwallers, I am Varlidass Bloodheart, terror of the Northlands. My horde and I have come to Mossflower to rule Redwall Abbey. Here are the conditions: You must surrender and leave with yore belongings, beside your food and water. You will go some place else to live, for Redwall will be my fortress. You will go unarmed, and won't be harmed. If you don't surrender, we will cause war on you. You don't have any warriors, but I have a fighting horde, which will terrify you. We will overrun you and kill you, or make you our slaves. Those who defy me and are disobedient, will die a slower and more painful death you could possibly imagine, like this bankvole. We will meet tomorrow morning, under a flag of truce. We will parley and you will give me your answer. The future Ruler of Mossflower, Varlidass Bloodheart. Category:Blog posts Category:Fan Fiction